


Arcann Romance

by Daedamnatus



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Agent, Bounty Hunter, F/M, Imperial Agent - Freeform, Jedi Knight, Knights of the Eternal Throne, Romance, Sith Warrior - Freeform, Speculative, Spoilers, Trooper - Freeform, inquisitor - Freeform, kotet, non-descript female player character, smuggler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daedamnatus/pseuds/Daedamnatus
Summary: Totally self-indulging in a what-if narrative where it would be possible for Arcann to initiate romance with a non-descript female player character. (written before the release of the expansion, there are spoilers but the storyline is not canon)





	1. Chapter 1

It seemed like years had passed since he’d last stood over Zakuul, contemplating the Eternal Throne. It had been his own, his birthright.

That concept eluded him now that his perception had shifted and changed. The Outlander stood where he once did, her expression hidden behind a mask not that very different from the one he used to wear. It was all wrong by his past standards. Everything, from his mother returning to save him, to the Outlander reaching out and taking his redemption into her own hands, to even his bare appearance. Not even Scions could have predicted it all.

“The throne is yours,” solemnly declared Senya, halfway up the steps. “The galaxy is ready for its new Empress.”

Grief washed over him. Sometimes, he failed to dissociate her feelings from his own. The past couple of months spent beside the Commander of the Alliance had aligned his cognition and emotions to that of his former enemy and while she was conservative with sharing her innermost thoughts, Arcann managed to guess them all the same.

“I thought I’d be ready for this by now,” replied the woman, voice slightly modulated by the filters of her combat helmet. “Here goes nothing.”

So much anguish and pain had been caused by this throne. He fought to keep his expression neutral yet grimness washed over him as he stood by her side, she now sat where his father had tried to do for an eternity.

His own grief summoned memories of his brother as he had last seen him kneeling at the foot of the Eternal Emperor, Valkorion, requesting that Arcann accompanied him to conquer the galaxy. Thexan had supported him his entire life and paid the ultimate price for it.

In turn, Arcann would not let fate punish the Commander for her grace and heart.

Her light chuckle almost shook him in his core, and she was up on her feet.

“Don’t you kneel,” she told him, gesturing with both hands to get up. “You’ve done enough of that for a lifetime.”

It had come to him as naturally as breathing and his eyes leveled with hers after she had removed her mask. Her calm smile made his shame seem irrelevant.

“What will you have us do, then, Your Majesty?”

Scoffing humorously, she playfully punched his good arm, visibly embarrassed at the title. He wouldn’t mind addressing her in such regard and raised a corner of his mouth, the one on the good side of his face. Smiling was new to him, with the deeply scarred tissue pulling at his nerves and his less visible wounds that kept all happiness from him.

She eyed Senya then brought her attention back on him.

“Show me around your house, teach me some of the basics. I want to get the most done before turning in.”

Arcann bowed his head, still unsure of the manner in which to acknowledge her new authority. But the Commander was no different in personality than the first day he’d met her, detained and ready to fight for her life. She was more tired, however. A few lines marked her otherwise smooth forehead. He predicted that more would appear in the time to come.

Treading the floors of the Eternal Throne Spire almost felt like a travesty. He’d changed so much. It still surprised him that his own mother would recognize him. From his healing on Voss, to his journey on Odessen and his work within the Alliance, had contributed to erasing his past obsessions. He still felt sorrow and infinite grimness for his lost brother, but that no longer drove him towards rage.

The gloom only ever seemed to alleviate when he was working. The slightest interaction with her kept his ever anxious mind focused. She put him in a position of trust when experience proved that to be reckless. She gave him credit for their victories in battle when the rest of the galaxy would have him sentenced to death or worse.

There was not a day when he would not see her, and even when free to roam on Odessen, in the idle times they would simply talk. He shared almost everything from his life, eager to make her understand his past decisions, anxious to receive the slightest sign of forgiveness or approval.

But she had patiently listened and told him all about her own path, despite the ill-hidden fact that he already knew much about her. Still he listened in turn. And he watched her being open and cordial in his presence. Never before had he felt more at peace.

It was his new constant, to be able to see her even as she interacted with other people. His heart would come to a short stop when their eyes would meet.

Walking side by side between briefing and operation rooms in the Spire, he sensed her staring - he had taken the habit of walking on her left side, presenting the more agreeable side of his face.

“Being here again,” she began asking, “how does it feel?”

There was rubble from recent combat and the smell of burnt metal irritated his sinus. He kept his eyes lowered.

“I will need time to adjust, but this is my home. Things will run differently now.”

“I’m glad you’re here. You know I won’t be able to sit on the throne for very long. So many issues require my attention elsewhere.”

He straightened his neck, feeling tightness in his chest, pulling on his scars. “Are you appointing me as your permanent ambassador, Empress?”

She breathed a short laugh. “I told you not to call me that way, at least not in private. And I wasn’t suggesting that you should stay here indefinitely. Unless that’s what you wish?”

Against his better judgment, he halted their progress towards the Knights headquarters. His heart rate was quicker as he faced the woman he now served.

“No amount of diplomacy could atone for my actions,” he murmured, sensing the near presence of Knights, barely out of earshot. “If it wouldn’t trouble you, I would like to assist you on your journey.”

She creased her brow as she held her face up to focus entirely on him. Arcann took a deep breath as he continued.

“I believe in actions. What I learned from fighting alongside you has brought me more answers and result than any meditation therapy.”

“That might be a question of time,” she said with reserve. “It may be long before you are completely healed. I’ve done questionable things myself and I’m still struggling, sometimes.”

He pinched his lips, baffled that she could withstand the sight of him and bear his incessant plight for redemption. Her responsibilities were far greater than she had ever had before that day, and there he was, wasting her time.

Directing his attention to the next room, he took in some air through his nostrils and attempted to relax his shoulders.

“There’s the armory. I never had more than technical repairs done to my lightsaber, but it is fully stocked.”

He took the lead and hoped she would press the pace to join him. Once inside the dim-lit hall of diverse weapons and arsenals, he stood in front of a glass casing like he did more times than he could count. The lid opened by his will through the Force, and his hand wrapped around the silver hilt of a lightsaber. She had stopped a few meters behind him and watched with caution when he brought her the gift.

Jaw tense and heart beating strongly inside his ribcage, he extended his hand.

“This used to belong to my brother, but I would like you to have it.”

“Arcann, I can’t accept…”

He pressed his eyelids together before taking a short breath. “I have spent too much time regretting my brother’s death, clinging to his weapon like an anchor.”

Pausing, he relaxed his grip and tried to stand still when he felt like falling. He almost felt the presence of his twin by his side, and holding on to the lightsaber seemed irrelevant.

“Take it as a token of my loyalty to you. I no longer need it.”

“I know how much this means to you, Arcann…” Her voice trailed off as she clipped the hilt to her belt, and he watched her bite her lower lip. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, even if your goal is to pay back your debt. But once that’s settled, I would like to know if this selfless, courageous and kind man will still be there.”

He caught himself pressing his own lips tightly as he muted a protest, a hurried promise that he could be whatever she wanted. Her doubtful look made his face twitch with pain and anger for presenting such an ugly sight. He could barely see through his left eye now that tears threatened to fall. Never had he hoped to have a close bond with another since Thexan. His hopes could shatter at the slightest sign of distrust or hostility from his new ally.

His friend. He refused to let fear take control of him.

“I will always be there for you.”

Her mouth gaped with shock as he felt a weight lift off his chest. She stood so close to him, her puzzled eyes locked with his.

“I… need someone,” he continued, eager to be understood - to be supported. “For most of my life I was led to believe that only in solitude and sacrifice can one achieve greatness. But it was always at my brother’s side that I felt the most complete, at peace. He looked out for me, as I would look out for another. That is my place, I’m sure of it now.”

Her head tilted to the side as grief and sadness washed over her expression.

“Arcann, after everything that happened between us… Don’t you want to take some time for yourself, maybe find your true calling in a more peaceful setting? The past will always linger, every time we would be together.”

Her slow step backward nearly broke his heart, tipping his temper over the edge as he shortened the distance between them. Her left hand was in his, and he felt her warmth and he closed his fingers around satin-smooth skin. Her gasp only hastened his urge to keep her with him. He bitterly murmured, hoping none was eavesdropping.

“Please, I want to fix everything. I realize how lost I was before you showed me the truth… I could never bring back the lives that I took but I can at least try to heal the harm I’ve done to you.” He bit his lips that wouldn’t stop trembling. “I would forever regret walking away, not while I feel the way I do.”

She didn’t pull away her hand and didn’t try to move. Her own eyes seemed glassy and widely staring, while her brow slowly relaxed and she took a slow breath.

“I… wouldn’t want to see you leave, either.”

* * * _To be continued?_


	2. Chapter 2

“Son, you seem distraught.”

Arcann heard his mother’s voice but was reluctant to tear himself out of contemplation. The air was cold above the canyon, the breeze made sounds dissipate faster and he wasn’t aware of her footsteps when Senya approached him near the railing. Her gloved hand pressed upon his right shoulder.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, mother.”

It was alright. Odessen was safe, the Eternal Fleet was theirs again. The Commander was working hard to rally factions for peace. She worked day and night, sometimes days at a time when deployed to another system.

He barely ever saw her anymore.

“Ever since last week, when we returned from Zakuul, I have noticed you were absent from your chambers. I can’t help but worry.”

“I need to stay busy,” he replied with an assuring nod. “The Alliance needs all the help it can get, we must stay alert against any uprisings. We have known these times when father was alive.” He recalled traveling Wild Space and the Outer Rim with Thexan, crushing the resistance against the Eternal Empire. “I know we can’t afford the same mistakes twice.”

“You are valuable to us all, Arcann.” She leaned over to catch his gaze, and he faced her with a certain difficulty. “But watch yourself not to get overworked.”

His teeth were locked tightly and he managed a pinched smile if only to dismiss her concerns. It was a vain attempt, a mother always worried about her children. Arcann needed to actively remind himself that she had only one left.

He sensed her pain and her mental exhaustion. Senya looked down in turn, clutching at the railing that separated them both against a deadly precipice. His lips twisted with dread before he circled his mother in his arms.

“Oh,” she breathed with surprise. “Thank you.”

He held on to her for a moment, sufficiently long enough to realize how much he’d missed the comfort of another person being close to him.

Long enough to want more. From someone else. Of _something_ else.

He’d spent his idle time trying to remember the lingering feeling of her touch, the warmth of her skin against his own, that very night in the hallways of the Eternal Throne. Plagued with remorse and guilt that she was now out of reach, he couldn’t feel that warmth again, having no other hand to hold - not even his own.

She had avoided him since then, he faced that realization as soon as he’d noticed her decisions and whereabouts. Either she had tactical briefings to tend to with Aygo, discussing logistics with Visz or cracking down on enemy spies with Shan. When she was not working, he spotted her at the cantina, with companies such as Cadera and other Mandalorians.

He did not share her mastery of the Mandalorian speech. He did not understand her lively enthusiasm for drinking, or having _fun_. He knew most of it from hearsay and deducing her activities by counting the hours between official assignments and deployments.

He had assigned himself a regular shift on a number of days, stretched out on a twelve-day rotation and only a half day off to rest. He’d spent time practicing combat, and training the troops in close quarters. He would look into the mercenaries and their own fighting techniques, sometimes catching sight of the Commander. Even then, it was difficult to find her alone. He began to resent her for being unavailable to him.

He also began to hate himself for being so insufferable. After three weeks, he eventually found her walking towards the Force Enclave, holding a box of supplies. Arcann was himself heading towards the lab to get a few packs of stimulants that the troops needed.

She took notice of him, parted her lips to greet him but he turned away, striding slightly faster down the cavernous halls. His veins pulsed madly across his body, and he felt a thunder in his chest. He could no longer stand to feel so ill and out of place when he saw her.

He reminded himself of the way Torian Cadera would casually wrap his arms around her and how they would grin widely at one another. They had known each other, fought and lived together for years. He had never been her enemy. She had never had to fight him off or be killed by him.

When he had the shipment of stims he briskly made his way back to the military quarters. She was standing in the war room - by herself. She had her arms crossed and she was waiting for him.

Arcann sharply nodded to her and went on his way, climbing down the platform and heading towards the hangar.

“Arcann!” she called, shouting echoes across the bunker.

He was far off but still within earshot. He had no choice but to at least stop and turn around. Teeth clenched, he took a shaky breath and effortfully kept in mind that he had work to do.

But she was the Commander. Whatever she had to say, he had to listen.

She walked to him with purpose, hands balled into fists, anger squaring her jaw as she came close. Her eyes went from his feet to his own gaze. He no longer wore his white prince armor and wore dark clothes instead. Disappearing into the shadows was easier than to be constantly reminded of his identity.

“Where have you been?” she asked, half-voiced and eyes narrowed.

The turmoil in her made his blood course rapidly through his neck and felt her pain mixed with his own. He clutched the box of medical supplies and looked down, before seeing her hands covering his to take the load from him. He sucked in a breath; her skin was as soft as the first time.

“I was here,” he whispered.

She tilted her head to one side, one strand of dark hair that couldn’t fit in her bun swung over her lips. She placed the box on the ground beside her and took his hands between her own.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” she added with a shy smile, adjusting the lock of hair behind her ear. “I was a little afraid, to be honest.”

Was that the reason why she spent so much time with other people?

“I- I understand,” he stuttered, still looking down. The way she held his mechanical hand made his mouth twitch, displeased.

“I feel guilty, too,” she added a short laugh. “I’m not good at dealing with emotions and you make me feel a whole lot of them. You can blame me for being awkward, I take full responsibility.”

Perhaps they could see eye-to-eye in different circumstances, without anyone else surrounding them.

In another life, perhaps…

Arcann eased his hands free and picked up the medical supplies.

“We both have responsibilities,” he replied as a cop out. “I should tend to mine.” He resumed his walk and turned away. “Good day, Commander.”

He felt a tug on his sleeve as she held his left elbow. His cybernetic arm. She gasped, as if only then remembering he was not whole under those clothes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

Her voice was edging, she was close to tears when he turned around worriedly. He felt sorry.

“I’m sorry,” he echoed. “For everything.”

He swallowed his own anxious remorse and fought to keep a straight face for the moment when he would meet General Aygo to bring those supplies.

It felt like losing yet another part of him, burying his heart in a hole in the ground. He had first lost Thexan to the malice of his father. Then Vaylin had been killed after a life of violence and maddening pain. He had done nothing to save them until it was too late. It was only justice that he would suffer alone.

He did not deserve her. His burden was his own to carry.

  
  
  


 


End file.
